


The Ghost of You

by VirtualDream



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, Ghost!Hanzo Shimada, Ghosts, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:48:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26266750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VirtualDream/pseuds/VirtualDream
Summary: Jesse McCree lost his arm in an accident and with it his ability to play the guitar, shattering his dreams of becoming a musician. With his means of income gone, he promptly gets kicked out of his apartment.Luckily, he soon finds a new place to stay.It just would have had been nice if someone had told him beforehand that the previous tenant was still around, haunting the apartment as a ghost.
Relationships: Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada
Comments: 38
Kudos: 107





	1. The Apartment

Angela's heels clicked against the parquet floor as she entered the apartment, turning towards Jesse with a smile. “See? I told you this one would be just what you were looking for!” She said, beckoning him to follow her down the short hallway into the combined kitchen and living space. “It's the perfect size for one person. It's furnished – very tastefully – everything is still in great condition. The neighborhood is lovely with the park right across the street. The view from up here is absolutely stunning, don't you think? And it even fits your budget! I'm telling you, Jesse, I won't be able to find anything better than this, honestly.”

She shot him a fond smile, briefly adjusting her glasses. Jesse returned it, although only halfheartedly. He felt like she had said the same exact things for the last few apartments they had checked out. He could not blame her, he probably was not exactly an easy client to deal with and she must have been getting desperate to get rid of him.  
  
“What's the catch this time?” Jesse asked nonchalantly as he walked a circle around the couch. He brushed his hand over the backrest before peeking into the bedroom. She was right with the furnishing. It looked modern yet cozy. He could tell that the furniture was quality stuff as well. Had Angela not assured him already, he would have never thought that he would be able to afford to rent a place like this. So there had to be another catch. There always was. And when he looked back over to Angela and saw her smile turning just a little more cheerful than necessary, he knew that he had been right with his assumption.  
  
“It's not that big of a problem, really.” Angela tried to assure him – soften the blow. He just raised a brow at her, causing her to sigh in defeat. No need to keep up the pleasantries at this point. “Just give it to me straight.”  
  
“The apartment is only available with a month-to-month lease.” She admitted, tapping her nails against her clipboard in a nervous habit. Jesse gave a small huff, taking another look around before slowly starting to shake his head. “Jesse, please – it's alright, most month-to-month leases can easily be transformed to long-term agreements after a while-”  
  
“Yeah, and if they don't want to do that, they'll kick me right back out after a month or two.” Jesse scoffed. He did not want to let his anger out on Angela but he was getting tired and frustrated.  
  
“Then we can take that time to look for a more permanent solution for you.” Angela offered. Her eyes were still full of kindness and somehow it made him hate her even more.  
  
He licked his lips and this time it was his turn to sigh in defeat. “Fine, alright.” Jesse said, throwing his arms up before letting himself fall onto the couch. “You can send them my application, I doubt they'd take me, anyway.” Jesse muttered, throwing his arm over his eyes. He missed the bright smile that formed on Angela's lips as she noted something down on her clipboard. “I'll throw in a good word for you.” She assured him. He did not tell her that he doubted it would help much.

  
Apparently, it had helped and to his own surprise, Jesse was given the apartment.  
  
Just over a week after he had checked it out with Angela, Jesse stood in front of the door – together with what little he possessed. He had never been the materialistic type. He had never owned much but what he owned, he had earned himself. A backpack, a battered guitar case, and a couple of plastic bags – that's all he had and all he really needed.  
  
Still not quite believing his luck, Jesse fished the key out of the pocket of his jeans and opened the door. He half expected the apartment to have turned into some sort of waste zone. Perhaps he had just imagined the nice apartment from before, perhaps he was just so desperate that he did not even notice the stains on the walls and the uneven flooring. But no – everything was just as before. He had not imagined anything. The apartment was still beautiful and immaculate and now – it was his.  
  
Jesse felt a smile tug at the corners of his lips. Maybe things were finally starting to look up again for him.  
  
He heaved his sparse belongings into the apartment and closed the door behind him. Jesse took the bag that contained most of his clothing and placed it into the wardrobe in the bedroom. It was not a whole lot but he did not feel like sorting through and organizing his clothes. He figured that he might just live out of that bag until it was emptied.  
  
Jesse had also brought some food with him – just the most basic stuff. Some pasta, some toast – and a few bottles of beer he placed inside the fridge. Once that was taken care of, his gaze fell upon the guitar case.  
  
He should have gotten rid of her.  
  
The thought crossed his mind, not for the first time. He could not play her anymore, so what good was she to keep around? If he sold her, he would at least get a little money. God knows, he could use it. He was lucky to have saved up some cash while he still could but his savings could only hold him afloat for so long. He would have to find a job – and soon – but he knew well enough that his chances of finding anything decent were minimal at best.  
  
Jesse could already see himself. 9 to 5 behind a counter, or filling shelves in a warehouse. He groaned at the thought and ran a hand through his face. No, not now. He did not want to think of that.  
  
He grabbed the case and dropped it in the corner of his bedroom, then he went to take a long, hot shower to clear his mind.  
  


  
His prosthetic arm was no good for playing his guitar but there was one thing it excelled at: opening bottles. And that night, Jesse proved it multiple times.  
  
He had made himself comfortable on the couch, socked feet propped up on the coffee table in front of it. The TV played some action flick he had seen a couple times already but it did not really matter. What mattered was that the bottle in his hand was empty again.  
  
Jesse groaned, pushing himself into a sitting position before placing the bottle on the coffee table, almost knocking it over as soon as he did. He hissed and reached for some other bottles, lifting them up to check their weight but to his annoyance, they were all empty as well. He rubbed his eyes and cursed under his breath. He was sure, that he had another left. Maybe in the fridge? But getting there would require him to move and Jesse really did not want to do that. With a huff, he let himself fall back into the cushions, ready to just doze off right then and there.  
  
However, he was awoken quite rudely.  
  
“Who are you and what are you doing here?”  
  
The voice startled Jesse so much, he all but jumped from the couch, snapping his head into the direction the sound had come from. His eyes were met with the sight of a complete stranger. A young man, around his age, with black hair and dark eyes that glared back at him with such ferocity that it made Jesse's knees feel weak.  
  
“I – what?” He sputtered out, shaking his head and blinking a couple of times but the man was still there, just as angry as before – maybe even more so. “How the hell did you get in here?”  
  
The man wrinkled his nose at that and Jesse could see him glancing towards the coffee table. “Leave right now and I will be kind enough not to call the police on you.” The stranger replied, sharply shaking his head before walking over and entering the bedroom as if he owned the place.  
  
“E-excuse me?” Jesse called after him, getting to his feet to stumble after the stranger. “This is my apartment if anything I should be the one -”  
  
He clicked the light on only to find that the bedroom was entirely empty.  
  
Jesse blinked, looking back into the living room before turning towards the bedroom again. “Uh.. hello?..” He entered, cautiously looking around as if the stranger would jump out of the shadows just to startle him yet again. “What the..” Jesse approached the wardrobe – the only place the stranger could be possibly hiding from him but when he opened it up, he was greeted only by his bag of clothes.  
  
He checked the window afterward and even took a look under the bed but the stranger was gone without a trace. Even the front door was still firmly locked and once Jesse had made sure that there were no other possible ways that man could have entered his apartment he went back to the living room, standing just where the other had. Just like him, Jesse took a look at the coffee table and the bottles piling up on top of it.  
  
“I think I had enough. Yeah, definitely had enough for today..”


	2. Path to Tranqulity

The next morning his encounter with the strange man seemed like nothing more than an alcohol induced hallucination and a week later, Jesse had all but forgotten the entire ordeal.

A sensible person might have taken the hint and reduced their alcohol intake after such an episode and to Jesse's defense he had tried to do so as well. However, it did not take him long to fall back into old habits. 

After multiple days of unsuccessful job hunting, Jesse felt like he deserved a little break. So he gathered his bottles and crashed on the couch again. This time there was no stranger pestering him, just the voices from the TV fighting to drone out the thoughts in his head.

It was sometime during the wee hours of the morning when Jesse awoke on the couch. Feeling stiff and sticky he realized that it would probably be best to take a shower and move over to the bedroom. He stood up and swayed, deciding that the shower would have to wait until after he had gotten some real sleep.

With a deep sigh, he stumbled his way to the bedroom and haphazardly dropped his pants on the ground before dropping himself onto the bed. He hugged his pillow close and was ready to fall asleep when a familiar voice startled him awake yet again.

“You again? Do you have no shame, climbing into my bed like this?”

Jesse instantly sat up straight, his head vehemently protesting the sudden movement but he pushed through the nausea to reach for the nightstand, turning on the small lamp that sat on top of it.

Without a doubt. The same man from before was standing at the foot of his bed. The same black hair, the same clothes, the same intense glare boring right into Jesse.

“How the hell do you keep getting in?” Jesse asked the stranger, incredulous, watching as the man's eyes narrowed at him. 

“How do I keep getting in? This is my apartment.” He had not thought that it would be possible but somehow the stranger seemed to get even angrier than he already was. “This is enough. Stay here, I will call the police.” 

“What? H-hey, wait!” Jesse tried to protest but the stranger already turned around and stormed towards the door. He tried to scramble after him but Jesse's foot got caught in the blanket and he tumbled to the floor with a yelp. He could only watch as the other made his way out of the room. However, instead of opening the closed door the stranger went right through it. 

Just like that – as if the door wasn't even there.

Jesse's eyes grew wide and he blinked furiously before jumping to his feet, trying to run after the man. He opened the door and turned on the light in the living room but just like the previous time the man was gone without a trace. 

Panting from the shock and his short sprint to the door, Jesse stood and observed for a while.

Nothing.

He was alone, the apartment empty.

“Shit.” He cursed under his breath and ran a hand through his shaggy hair. This time he did not even bother to check the front door. He knew that it would still be locked.

Jesse did not know why but the stranger's presence made itself known to him more frequently from that point on.

It was never quite as strong, quite as vivid as the first two times but he caught the stranger's reflection in the window multiple times. Sometimes, he heard his voice clear as day – without the stranger himself appearing before his eyes. “Take off your dirty shoes, would you?” - “Beer for dinner again, I see.” - “Have you never heard of a coaster?”

It was, quite frankly, driving him crazy.

Jesse threw out his remaining alcohol, vowing to never touch a bottle again all in an effort to make this stop. He even adjusted his habits to appease the intrusive stranger. He started to wash his dishes right after he had finished eating. He cleaned the apartment regularly. He used coasters. He made sure he had actual food in the fridge. He took daily showers.

It was crazy, he knew that. Trying to please someone who was not really there, just in an attempt to make them stop to appear but whether he liked it or not, it helped Jesse to get a grip on his life again.

He felt better, healthier and he started looking much more like his old self rather than a homeless drunk. It gave him hope – that he could change his life for the better after all. He still had it in him. Jesse still had a chance.

With this newfound energy, Jesse once again tried looking for a job. His strategy at this point was to just take a stroll downtown, looking for any shop or restaurant that had a sign up, indicating that they were looking for someone to help out. So that was exactly what he did that day.

He found a small convenience store and two bars that fit the bill and was able to introduce himself right then and there. 

It went surprisingly well.

Jesse felt confident that at the very least one of the places would call him back with a job offer but he decided to continue his walk through the streets. It was a nice, sunny day after all and he was in a great mood for the first time in what felt like forever.

He just walked around – aimless but not lost, taking in the views and the life bustling around him. Jesse smiled to himself when he spotted a small store across the street.

It seemed to be a bookstore of some sort, the old building squeezed in between two much more modern looking ones. The store seemed to have an.. esoteric kind of vibe to it as well. The name was written across the window front in swirling, golden letters: 'Path to Tranquility' with a single stylized eye above it. 

Jesse was intrigued but he did not think too much of it, did not think of entering the little store – at least not until he saw the paper taped to the entrance door. 

The door opened to the chime of a bell and Jesse instantly felt like some sort of intruder who had violated the peace and quiet of a sacred place. Despite his own fears, no one inside the store even looked up at his entrance, seemingly unbothered by his presence.

Jesse smiled to himself, a little uneasy and moved to the first shelf, trying to blend in rather than to stick out like a sore thumb. 

The inside of the store was much larger than the outside would have him assume, stretching out in depth. It was also a lot busier than Jesse had expected. Not, that it was loud or filled with crowds of people but there were multiple customers, quietly looking through books or eyeing the various little trinkets that were on display. 

Jesse took a breath of the cool air inside the store to ground himself and tried to focus on the shelf in front of him. He read a few of the titles before picking one at random to take a closer look. 

It was a book about spirits.

Jesse's stomach dropped and he felt a cold shiver run down his spine. A coincidence? Yes, of course. What else could it be? 

“You seem to be in discord my friend, is there something I can help you with?”

A voice from behind startled him, almost enough to make Jesse jump out of his own skin. He almost dropped the book in his hands but somehow managed to hold onto it before whirling around, half expecting to see the stranger from his apartment.

But of course he was not in his apartment and while he was met with the sight of a stranger, this one looked quite different – and much kinder at that.

“I uhm-” Jesse said, stumbling over his own words before showing the stranger the book he had found. “Just – just browsing a little, is all.”

The man before him smiled sympathetically, his stark blue eyes softening as he regarded Jesse. “I am glad that you found what you were looking for.” Jesse was so profoundly confused that he could not form a coherent answer. He simply stood there, watching the stranger bow his head before moving on.

He had not been looking for anything other than a job.

Jesse calmed himself and took another look at the book, fittingly titled 'True Self is Without Form'.

Spirits.

Ghosts.

He had always been somewhat superstitious, had never wanted to mess with things like this. But perhaps this time he did not have any other choice and to be honest, he would much rather be seeing ghosts than hallucinating in broad daylight.

Jesse licked his lips, making a decision.

He remained in the store for a little longer, browsing the other books and items but nothing really stood out to him at that point.

He had already found what he had been looking for.

When he moved to the register to pay for the book, he was met with the kind stranger from before, who once again gave him a warm smile.

“Will this be all?” He asked, sounding somewhat amused though there was no malice in his tone.

“Oh, yeah..” He hummed, once again holding the book up. “Sounds.. interesting.” Jesse tried to match the smile though it did not feel convincing even to him.

“Very well, here is your change. May you find your path to tranquility.” The man gave him a wave that Jesse met with a hesitant nod before he turned around to walk to the door. He was just about to leave, hand already reaching for the handle when he decided against it, once again turning to look at the man at the register.

He was still standing there, smiling, without a care in the world and Jesse quickly approached him again.

“Actually, I just saw the sign – you're looking for an employee?..” For some reason the man in front of him broke into a bright smile, nodding in affirmation.


	3. True Self is Without Form

As soon as Jesse made his way back to his apartment he sat down on his couch and started to pore over his new book. He had hoped that it would give him some much-needed answers, some solid advice but he quickly found himself more confused than before. The spiritual mumbo jumbo did not make any sense to him at all.

Frustrated, Jesse threw the book down at the coffee table, hiding his face in his hands.

What was he even doing?

Not just reading up on spirits but also looking for a boring, unfulfilling job. He did not want to help out in a convenience store, or a bar or that esoteric shack that scammed its customers.

He wanted to make music again, play his guitar.

But he could not do that anymore.

Not after the accident.

Not with his prosthetic arm.

A growl clawed its way out of Jesse's throat, then a sob, then another.

Perhaps he would have been better off dying back then.

His anger, his frustration, his sorrow, and his fears – they all swept him away as he sobbed into his palm, trying to stifle the ugly sounds he made. Jesse hated the thing – his new arm – it had taken everything he had held dear from him. His music, his passion.

A wave of pain shot through the metal and Jesse moaned, tightly grabbing his elbow. It was not there, it was not real – just like the stranger in his apartment – a phantom. But it hurt and it hurt like a bitch.

Jesse curled up on the couch, making himself as small as he could while he cradled his arm to his chest, whimpering in pain that he should not be able to feel when he heard a familiar voice.

“What are you..? Are you a junkie? Are you having an overdose on my couch right now?” The voice bellowed but Jesse did not even bother to raise his head, instead opting to press his face into the cushions.

“Get lost! J-just fuck off-..!” Jesse managed to yell back and for a moment everything was silent. He wondered if the spirit had actually followed his wishes and disappeared but then his voice appeared again, closer now but also much calmer.

“Sit up.” The voice demanded firmly but without anger. “Sit up, I want to help you.”

“Oh, yeah?” Jesse could not help but bark out a short laugh. He wiped his face with his flesh hand before slowly sitting up. “And what could you possibly do?” Jesse hissed at the stranger.

He looked just like he always did, just that this time his scowl was replaced by a frown. The stranger knelt down in front of Jesse, pointing at his prosthetic arm. “Take that off.”

“Why would I do that?” Jesse scoffed, lashing out like some wounded animal. “It's hurting you.” The other replied calmly, causing Jesse to laugh once again.

“It's not hurting. It can't, it's just a bunch of metal and wires.” Jesse said, his voice wavering.

“But it still hurts.”

Jesse looked down into the stranger's eyes, losing himself for a moment.

He was arguing with a ghost – what would be the worst that could happen if he removed his prosthesis?

Jesse sighed and slowly lowered his prosthetic arm to remove it. He was not very practiced in handling it, so it took him some fumbling but the ghost did not push him to go faster. He just watched in silence.

Once the arm was off, Jesse placed it next to him on the couch, waving the stump at the spirit. “So, what now?” He tried to chuckle but it came out more like a sob. The stranger did not seem impressed.

“You place your hand on your stump – no, not – like _this_...” He instructed Jesse, showing him what to do although he never touched Jesse directly. “There, now you start to knead. A little firmer, yes, like that. Take a deep breath.”

Jesse had no idea what was happening but oddly enough it seemed to help. The pain slowly started to fade and eventually, he was able to breathe evenly again. He looked at the stranger yet again and thanked him quietly.

“How did you know that? That it would help?..” Jesse wanted to know. The stranger's frown deepened and he got back up to his feet. “I.. I just knew.” He said, sounding somewhat defensive. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and cleared his throat.

“Anyways, you really cannot stay here any longer. This is my apartment and I am not looking for a roommate.” The spirit said, much to Jesse's frustration.

“Look, Darlin'-” The spirit shot him a glare and Jesse raised his hand in defeat. “Maybe this used to be your apartment but it's mine now. I'm renting it – have been doing so for almost a month now.” Jesse tried to explain.

“Ridiculous! I am living here, I own this apartment!” The spirit bristled and Jesse felt like he remembered something he had read in his new book earlier – about spirits, who did not know they were dead.

“You can't own this apartment -” Jesse said slowly. “- because you're dead. You're a ghost.”

The stranger looked at him in bewilderment. “How- how dare you? I am not dead, I am right here! This is ludicrous. You are out of your mind!”

“Oh, really now?” Jesse challenged, getting up from the couch to stand in front of the apparition that has been haunting him. “If you're not a ghost, then tell me a little about yourself. What's your name?”

“My name is -” He could see the stranger falter and hesitate. “My name is none of your business.”

“And what do you do all day? You know, when you're not here bothering me?” Jesse followed up.

“Surely something that is more important than lying on the couch all day and drinking cheap beer.” The ghost scoffed though Jesse could tell that he was starting to doubt – starting to understand. He backed away from Jesse, on the defensive again.

“I saw you walk through a door once, you know?” Jesse pointed out, raising a brow at the other.

“That cannot be true, you must be mistaken.” The spirit shook his head. His expression was one of anguish. It made something in Jesse's chest feel tight but he was so close now.

“Right.” Jesse said with an air of finality before pointing at the stranger's feet. “And how do you explain that?”

The spirit looked down at himself, only now noticing that he was standing in the middle of the coffee table. He stood there frozen for a moment before stepping out of it. Jesse could tell that he was growing nervous, frantic.

“It's okay, Darlin'. We all have to die at some point, nothing scary about it at all..” Jesse tried to placate the ghost but to no avail.

“Do not call me that!”

“Just let it go. Walk into the light.” Jesse continued, keeping his voice calm and soothing.

“There is no light!” The spirit cried out, grabbing his own head before he turned around and – vanished. Faded out of existence.

Jesse held his breath, waiting, listening – but nothing happened.

The ghost was gone and Jesse could only hope, that he would not return.


	4. Man, Musician, Medium

It was quiet for a while.

The spirit did not appear in front of Jesse anymore and the world kept turning just like it always did.

Jesse ended up getting the job at 'Path to Tranquility'. He learned, that the man he had talked to was called Zenyatta Thekharta. He owned the little store and ran it by himself and business had eventually grown enough to allow him to look for an employee to help him out.

The job itself was nothing crazy – filling shelves, keeping stock, tending to the register – though Jesse had to admit, that at the very least he was able to interact with some interesting people during his work there. For some reason, the store attracted people of all kinds. Some were really big into spirituality, some seemingly only visited to talk to Zenyatta while others seemed nervous, as if they did not want anyone they knew to catch them in a place like this.

It was, everything considered, probably the best that could have happened to Jesse. The pay was nothing special perhaps but it paid the bills and got food on the table.

Jesse should have been glad that things were finally starting to look up for him again but somehow his thoughts would always lead him right back to the last conversation he had with the spirit from his apartment.

His heart ached for the poor soul, trapped in limbo. He could not even start to imagine how it must feel to realize you were dead – not remembering who you were, not knowing where to go next.

During his time working at the 'Path to Tranquility' he had learned that Zenyatta was really good at reading people. So it was not very surprising to Jesse when Zenyatta approached him during his shift at the register, two cups of steaming tea in his hands.

„Something seems to be troubling you, my friend.“ Zenyatta hummed, offering Jesse one of the cups. He took it with a small smile. „Thanks, Zen. It's nothing.. I don't know.“ Jesse sighed, slowly shaking his head before taking a cautious sip of tea.

„Does it have anything to do with the book you bought the other day?“ Zenyatta asked gently, slightly tilting his head to the side. Encouraging Jesse to talk without prying.

„Yes, I.. I guess it does..“ Jesse muttered his reply. There was a moment of silence as Zenyatta gave him the time to sort his thoughts and find his words. „I think.. and I know that must sound crazy – but I think, I've been seeing a spirit.“

„What kind of spirit?“

Jesse lowered his gaze, looking into his cup. „A young man, probably around my age. He appeared in my apartment, claiming it was his. I read the book and tried to, you know, break it to him. Tell him that he's .. dead.“

„I imagine it was no easy task.“ Zenyatta nodded and Jesse could not help but chuckle. „No, I guess not. He didn't believe me at first but I guess it dawned on him eventually. I asked him his name, asked him who he was but he didn't seem to remember. He seemed.. distressed..“

Jesse swallowed thickly. Another moment of silence passed between them.

„Has he appeared since?“ Zenyatta asked quietly and Jesse merely shook his head in reply. „Then perhaps it was already enough to bring him peace.“

„No.. no, he.. he wasn't at peace.“ Jesse disagreed, biting his lip. „I don't think he's gone. What if he comes back? What am I supposed to do? I'd help him but I – I have no clue about any of this. What am I supposed to do?“

He looked up at the other, feeling at his wit's end but Zenyatta did not seem perturbed, offering Jesse a warm smile instead. „I have the feeling, that you worry too much, my friend.“ He said gently. „I am sure that in time everything will fall into place. The spirit that you are talking about.. perhaps his past will hold the key to his future, what do you think?“

Jesse was not quite sure whether he had truly understood Zenyatta's words but in his mind, a plan started to form and it was set in motion a few days later.

He had reappeared, just like Jesse had expected him to. However, this time it was different. Jesse had just come back to his apartment in the late evening and when he entered the living space, the stranger was sitting on the couch, looking out through the large windows.

It was quiet and the ghost did not give any indication of having noticed Jesse at all. Jesse slowly began to approach the couch, unsure whether he should make his presence known but he soon found out that it was not necessary.

„I truly am a ghost, am I not?“ His voice was so quiet – it sounded so defeated – that Jesse barely even recognized it.

Instead of answering right away, he sat down next to the spirit. Jesse followed the other's example and instead of looking at the other, he too looked out into the night.

„I guess you are.“ Jesse nodded slowly. „I'm sorry.“ He doubted that it was the appropriate thing to say but who could really blame him? He genuinely felt bad for the other. If his appearance as a spirit indicated his appearance at his time of death then -

Then it was a terrible loss. A young man, a life gone.

„I went outside today.“ The ghost said after a while, his voice barely above a whisper. „I walked through walls. I did not even feel a difference as I passed through them.“

„I visited my neighbors – a few of them. They could not see me, they could not hear me.“ Jesse felt eyes on him and he turned his head to look in the spirit's face. „Why is it that you are the only one?..“

There was sorrow and desperation in his voice – and hope. But Jesse had no answers, only the same questions.

„I don't know. I really – I have no clue.“ Jesse said, shaking his head with a sigh. „I .. I'm sorry, I don't think I've ever seen you before. I just happened to rent this apartment and -.. I guess it's all just one big coincidence.“

Jesse watched as the ghost averted his eyes once again. He could tell that the other was disappointed but Jesse would not give up so easily.

„-But you must have had a life before your death, no? There must be.. something left. Some clue, some hint, a connection to someone who did know you.“

The spirit gave him a look of uncertainty. „I do not even remember my own name and I cannot communicate with anyone but you-“

„ - That's enough.“ Jesse stopped him with a smile. „You can't ask anyone about yourself but I could. I could ask them for you. I could help you to find out who you were. Even if it doesn't change anything about your situation.. you'd at least know who you are.“

„You want to help me?“ The spirit huffed. „Why? So you can finally have the apartment for yourself?“ He chuckled but there was no trace of humor in it.

„I want to help you because it would be a damn shame if I never got to put a name to a pretty face like yours.“

Jesse watched as the spirit grew flustered, crossing his arms and looking the other way. He wondered how the man next to him would have had reacted in life. Would he be flustered too? Or just angry? Had people even told him how pretty he was?

„Fine.“ The spirit huffed. At least Jesse's comment seemed to have lightened the mood. „I will accept your help.“

„Great. My name's Jesse McCree by the way.“ Jesse said with a big smile. „I'll call Angela tomorrow morning. She's the broker who got me this apartment. Maybe she can find out something about who lived here before me and then we could go around and ask the neighbors. Surely one of them knows something that could help us.“


	5. Hanzo

It turned out that Jesse's assumptions had been grossly optimistic.

When he had called Angela, she told him that she could make an inquiry about the last tenant but that there was no guarantee that she would get any substantial information. Still, she promised to try her best but of course Jesse could not tell her the real reason for his request.

The neighbors too were not quite as helpful as he had hoped.

„The young man who used to live upstairs? I saw him sometimes. He usually wore those expensive-looking suits and he always seemed awfully busy.“

„Oh, yeah, I know who you mean. Seemed like a pretty cold person to me – real, Popsicle that one, you know? - was polite and everything if you talked to him but he always kept his distance.“

„There was someone living in that apartment? I didn't even notice.“

At first, Jesse tried to make excuses to try and keep the mood up. „Maybe they just recently moved in themselves and didn't have the time to get to know you properly.“ But after they got the same vague non-answers time and time again even Jesse started to lose hope. „Come on, maybe the next one will know something.“ He said with a smile but the spirit did not budge. „Hey, you alright?“

The spirit gave a low chuckle, a bitter smile forming on his lips. „It seems I have been a ghost long before I died.“ He said quietly, turning towards the stairs leading back up to the apartment.

„No, wait – let's go and take a small walk outside. The weather is nice and maybe it will make you remember something?“ Jesse suggested, hoping that no one heard him talk to himself in the hallway.

He could see the spirit hesitate before he turned back to Jesse.

„I suppose it would do no harm to try..“

They walked down the street, side by side though of course no one but Jesse was able to see the spirit next to him. They made way for Jesse and walked right through the other.

Jesse could tell that the spirit felt no physical contact or anything of the sort whenever someone walked through him but he could see that it was taking a toll on his psyche.

„How about we head over to the park?“ Jesse asked quietly, nodding towards the trees across the street. The spirit did not even look up before giving a nod, following Jesse's lead like a lost child.

They entered the park and while there were some people around, they easily found an empty bench in front of a big lake. Jesse sat down and the spirit followed suit and for a while they just sat there, looking out over the water.

It was quiet for a long time and eventually, it was Jesse who broke the silence.

„It's beautiful, isn't it? Almost makes you forget that you're in the middle of a city.“

The spirit remained silent for a long time.

„I do not recall this place.“ He said quietly. „I remember my apartment and I remember the building but it feels like I have never been here before.“ There was sorrow in his voice – and pain.

„Maybe you just don't remember, maybe if we come here more often you will start to recognize it.“ Jesse said, trying to remain optimistic but the spirit only shook his head in defeat.

„The neighbors.. they said I was rarely at home, always busy. I often wore a suit. I must have worked a lot.“

„Hey, now, there's nothing wrong with working hard.“ Jesse tried to assure him though he himself would have hated being trapped in that sort of corporate life. Always working, always trying to make the numbers rise – until one day you collapse and get replaced by the next guy waiting in line.

He wanted to reassure the other but what could he possibly say to do so? He was already dead – there was no second chance. No way to turn around a life that had already ended.

„- some sort of tragedy within the family though they did not tell me anything specific.” He had put her on speaker so the spirit sitting next to him could listen to the conversation as well. Jesse knew that the other had tried not to get his hopes up but he must have still felt disappointed. They had not made any progress whatsoever, the spirit's identity remaining a mystery.

„That's terrible.“ Jesse said quietly. „But thank you anyway, Ange.“

„It's no problem at all.“ She assured him and he could clearly hear the smile in her voice. „On a more positive note, they told me that you would most likely be able to keep the apartment for the next couple of months. They didn't want to make any promises but it's looking good – isn't that great?“

„Oh, yeah.. yeah, that's great..“

The line was silent for a while.

„Is something wrong? Do you not like the apartment?“ Angela asked quietly but Jesse quickly shook his head – until he realized that she couldn't see him. „No, no – the apartment is.. it's amazing..“ He glanced over at the spirit, who got up from the couch to walk over to the window. „It's like you said, it's the best.“

That seemed to ease Angela's worries. „Of course!“ She chuckled. „Alright, Jesse, call me if you need anything else.“

They said their goodbyes before hanging up. Jesse bit down on his lower lip, then he looked at the spirit once again. He could only see his profile but the sorrow and hopelessness he felt were evident to Jesse.

„Hey, you know – maybe we should search the apartment again.“ Jesse said, trying to sound upbeat. „I'm sure there must be something that could give us a clue in here!“

„And we missed it the last four times we searched?“ The spirit sighed, not even turning around to look at Jesse.

„Well, you know what they say: fifth time's the charm!“

The spirit smiled and Jesse felt like it had already been worth it.

So, they set out and started searching the apartment once again. They started in the bathroom, then they moved over to the kitchen. They searched every drawer, every cabinet, inspected every scrap of paper they got into their hands.

It took them hours but by the time they had made it to the bedroom they were still left empty-handed.

„It's enough, Jesse. There is no point in looking any further.“ The spirit said eventually, watching from a distance while Jesse had all but crawled into the wardrobe to inspect it from the inside.

„No – there must be something here.“ Jesse insisted.

Something. _Anything_.

He got out of the wardrobe with a huff, wiping the sweat off his forehead. The spirit gave him an almost pleading look but Jesse only shot him an easy smile. The other sighed in defeat and relented, then the search continued.

Jesse decided to take a look underneath the bed next. The space was – just as it had been all the previous times Jesse had checked – empty. He took out his phone and used the flashlight to light the space always repeating the same words in his mind.

There had to be something.

He was just about to move on when he saw something stuck between the mattress and the slatted frame of the bed. It looked like a thick piece of cardboard but Jesse had never noticed it before. Jesse tried not to get his hopes up but he lifted the mattress and retrieved what was revealed to be a small journal of sorts.

His heart started to beat faster as Jesse opened the journal and flipped through some of the pages.

„Did you find anything?“ The spirit asked, approaching Jesse who was still looking at the journal in his hands. Countless pencil sketches filled the pages though the latter third of the journal had been left empty. Uncompleted.

The motifs varied widely. From faces to poses, detailed portraits, and impressive cityscapes. Jesse could tell that the earlier drawings were a little rough at the edges but the skill of the artist seemed to have improved considerably with time.

„It's.. it's a sketchbook of sorts..“ Jesse mumbled, noticing that every drawing came with a date in the corner of the page. The last one had been finished roughly four months ago.

„Are there signatures?“ The spirit asked. Jesse could tell that he wanted to reach out and take the journal, flip the pages himself but they had learned long ago that interacting with anything – be it an object or a person – was impossible for the ghost.

„No, I don't see any..“ Jesse said with a frown, moving back to the beginning of the journal. The first page had been left empty but something was written on the inside of the cover. „Wait, there's something here. No clue what it means though.. looks like it could be Chinese characters or something like that?“

„That's Japanese.“ The spirit scoffed and Jesse looked up at him with wide eyes. „You recognize this? You can read it?“

He quickly held the journal up so that the spirit could take a closer look. The other seemed surprised himself, his eyes moving over the characters.

„Shimada. Hanzo.“ The spirit said breathlessly. „Hanzo.. that is my name. My name is Hanzo.“

„Your name's Hanzo.“ Jesse echoed, a bright smile starting to split his face. He was so damn happy, if he had been able to he would have pulled the spirit into a hug and Hanzo looked much the same.

„That means you used to be an artist.“ Jesse said, looking down at the journal once again but when he glanced at Hanzo he saw the other frown.

„No, I.. I was no artist..“ Hanzo said quietly, thoughtfully. Jesse wondered whether he was remembering something or whether there was a memory connected to the journal that remained out of Hanzo's grasp.

„Just look at it, Hanzo. These sketches are amazing.“ Jesse pointed out, showing Hanzo an incredibly detailed and lifelike drawing of a sparrow but the other just shook his head.

„I hid them. No one knew.“ Hanzo said, his tone somber.

Jesse's smile faltered a little as he lowered his gaze to the sparrow once again.

No one had known of Hanzo's incredible artistic talent?

„Why did you keep it a secret?..“ Jesse asked quietly. „Clearly you must have been passionate about it?“

„My father did not approve.“ Hanzo closed his eyes as if he was reliving a memory long past. „I wanted to draw but more than that I wanted to make him proud. He saw it as a waste of time so I kept it a secret from everyone.“

Silence settled over them for a while until Jesse finally closed the journal.

He felt humbled to have seen it.

They spend the next few days studying the journal more closely. Every day after Jesse's shift they sat down on the couch and flipped through the pages. Jesse would ask questions and Hanzo would try to answer them.

It seemed hard for Hanzo to put names to faces but then again there was no guarantee that the people he had drawn were people he had known personally, instead of references he had found on the internet.

Other memories came easier.

They were mostly blips and blurbs of Hanzo's past but for the first time since they had met, Hanzo was able to tell Jesse something about himself.

Most of his memories centered around work. Hanzo seemed to have been a rather high ranking member of some megacorp. Jesse had asked whether Hanzo remembered being close to any of his colleagues but the other just shook his head.

Hanzo also remembered his parents. How his father almost exclusively drank a specific brand of green tea and the perfume his mother used to wear. However, they were both dead. Had died long before Hanzo, who couldn't recall any other close relatives.

Sometimes, when they talked about his drawings, Hanzo would remember what had inspired him that day. His face would light up with a smile, his eyes shining like dark gems.

It was those moments when Hanzo seemed most alive to Jesse and every time, he could not help but feel like the journal in his hands was instead a piece of Hanzo's heart. Warm and alive and with the ability to see the true beauty of life.

„Was that the last one?“ Hanzo asked and Jesse could only confirm with a rueful nod.

„Yeah, all the other pages are empty..“ Jesse said quietly, thumbing through the pages just to make sure one more time. There were no drawings left but suddenly a slip of paper fell out of the journal, sailing to the floor.

“What is that? A bookmark?” Hanzo asked, moving to reach out before he remembered that he would not be able to pick the paper up.

“But it was all the way in the back..” Jesse said, picking up the paper himself. He turned it around and took a closer look. “It's a flight ticket.” He said in surprise.

“Where to?” Hanzo asked, curious. He leaned over, taking a look himself.

“Paris.” They both said in unison, sharing a quick smile.

“But it expired over three months ago..” Jesse noted. Hanzo had died before he could make the trip. “Do you remember wanting to go?”

Hanzo gave a low hum, thinking about it for a while. “Just-.. vaguely..”

Jesse nodded, placing the ticket on the coffee table before trying to find the pages it had been stuck between. He had a little hunch that he would be able to find something more and it turned out that he was right.

Hanzo had made a little list of things that he wanted to do in Paris.

“Here, look at this.” Jesse said with a smile, showing the page to Hanzo, who immediately perked up.

“You wanted to go to the Louvre. You even made a list of paintings you wanted to see and you wanted to visit the zoo and the aquarium. You wanted to see the Eiffel Tower at night and -..”

Hanzo reached out, placing his hand over the journal so that Jesse could not read anymore. When Jesse looked up, Hanzo seemed all flustered and nervous.

“What a stupid thing to write down on such a list.” Hanzo muttered, barely audible even though they were so close to each other.

“Ain't nothing stupid about it, Darlin'.” Jesse assured him with a warm smile. He had already seen the last bullet point on the list.

It simply read:

Kiss someone


	6. Silly Heartache Song

They had gone through the sketchbook time and time again. While it had helped Hanzo to remember some things about his past, there was still a lot they did not know, and the sketchbook could only help them so much.

They seemed to have hit another roadblock, and while Jesse was confident that they would be able to overcome it, Hanzo seemed much more restless. He would go through the apartment every now and then, hoping for a new memory to trigger, though his efforts remained fruitless.

“Jesse?” Hanzo's voice called out from the bedroom as Jesse was watching the news on TV one evening. He perked up and turned his head to see Hanzo stand in the doorway. “The guitar. Is it mine?”

Jesse was a little surprised, but he quickly shook his head. “No, it's mine.” He said, thinking – hoping – that this particular conversation would end right there. He turned back to the screen and heard Hanzo give a soft “Oh.”, and that should have been it.

It was quiet for a moment, but Jesse could practically hear the cogs turning in Hanzo's head. He would not be getting away that easy it seemed.

“I have never seen you play it.”

There it was.

Jesse took in a sharp breath, releasing it in a breathless chuckle. “Can't. Even if I wanted to.” He said, trying his best to sound nonchalant. He did not turn around to face Hanzo, but he could feel his gaze on the back of his head. Jesse raised his prosthetic arm, waving it around. “It's no good for that.”

There was a moment of silence again, but it felt much tenser this time. Jesse tried to focus on the TV in front of him, but somehow his head suddenly felt like it was filled with cotton. He did not even realize that Hanzo had moved when the other pushed himself into Jesse's field of vision with a look of concern on his face.

Jesse could not hear him either.

That seemed odd, so Jesse tried to focus once again – this time on Hanzo. The movements of his lips, the slight arch of his brows. The dark eyes, that regarded him with such kindness.

“-breathe, Jesse.”

So he did.

Jesse took a deep breath, reaching up to rub his eyes. “Sorry.” He managed to croak out, suddenly feeling a little light-headed. It was a good thing he was already seated.

“There is no need to apologize.” Hanzo said, almost as if stating a fact. Jesse looked at him and managed a weak smile and Hanzo returned the gesture.

“But I do not understand..” Hanzo began, carefully – weighing each word as he gauged Jesse's reaction. “How your prosthesis would stop you from playing the guitar.”

Jesse bit his lip and lowered his gaze, down onto the offending appendage. “It's not.. it just doesn't work. I can't move it precise enough, or fast enough, or light enough – I'd just break the neck-..” He tried to explain, opening and closing his prosthetic hand.

“Did you practice?” Hanzo asked quietly and Jesse could only laugh at that. “No use. 'd just be a waste of time.” - And then, if it still did not work he would feel even more devastated than before.

He could hear Hanzo huff and when he looked up, the spirit was scowling at him. It almost reminded him of the first few times they had met.

“You cannot know if you never tried!” Hanzo exclaimed and Jesse was surprised by the ferocity in his voice.

“Hanzo, look.. even if I practiced there's no guarantee I'd be able to do it.” Jesse tried to argue. “There's no guarantee that it will be just like before.”

He watched Hanzo's expression dropping into something that almost looked like defeat.

“If you do not enter the tiger's cave, you will not catch its cub.” Hanzo said, almost solemnly. “For me, it is too late but you can still change, Jesse. You can still take the chance, take a leap of faith.”

And there was nothing Jesse could say to argue with that.

So, Jesse tried.

He practiced.

Every day when he woke up and every day when he came home from work.

And Hanzo was there for all of it.

In fact, he turned into something of a coach for Jesse.

At first, the exercises were quite mundane. Hanzo merely instructed Jesse to make broad movements with his arm. He did not really understand why Hanzo would insist on doing it that way, but he decided not to argue about it either.

Once Hanzo felt like Jesse was ready, they tried more precise movements. At first, he wanted Jesse to draw. Nothing complex – Jesse had no talent in that regard, with or without prosthesis – just straight lines between two points. When he had gotten it down, they moved on to simple geometric shapes.

Then came the exercises for more precise finger movements.

Hanzo made Jesse handle eggs with his prosthetic hand.

At first, Jesse just broke egg after egg just by trying to pick them up, and by the end of the first carton, he managed to hold it without the egg breaking. Then he had to break them and try to separate the yolk from the egg white.

It took him countless tries, countless eggs, but eventually, it worked.

But Hanzo did not stop there.

Since his accident, Jesse had very much tried to avoid using his prosthesis for anything more complex than grabbing and holding, but now Hanzo made him go through all those tiny every-day motions.

Opening a bottle – those with screw caps, that Jesse could not just pop open easily – turning a key in a keyhole, buttoning up a shirt, tying a knot.

All these little things.

And Jesse mastered them all.

“Try it.” Hanzo encouraged him, but Jesse still felt unsure.

“I don't know, Han.” He said with a nervous chuckle. “You really think I'm ready?..” Jesse glanced up and the confidence he saw in Hanzo's smile already answered his question.

“I know you are.”

So this was it.

The moment of truth.

Jesse took a deep breath, looking down at the guitar in his lap. “Just.. don't be too disappointed if it doesn't work..” He said quietly, carefully grabbing the neck of the guitar with his prosthesis.

It did not creak or break yet, so he took that as a good sign. Another glance at Hanzo earned him an encouraging nod. Jesse licked his lips and let his fingers glide over the strings.

And then he played.

It was just a random tune, a bastard melody, but it almost brought Jesse to tears.

He was doing it, he was playing the guitar again!

And it felt amazing.

He picked up the pace, playing a faster rhythm, and his fingers – both flesh and metal – flew across the cords. It was not like before. It never would be. Jesse had no sense of touch in his metal hand but it was enough. More than that.

Once he had his fill, Jesse stilled his hands and took another deep breath. He sniffed and rubbed his face, only now noticing the wetness of his cheeks.

“Thanks, Hanzo.” He managed to get out, his throat feeling thick. “I didn't – I didn't think I could ever play again. Without you, I could have never done it.”

He saw Hanzo shake his head, almost fondly. “Nonsense.” Hanzo said firmly. “I did not do anything. Do you not realize, that you always had it in you? It was your own fear of defeat that had you paralyzed.”

“And without you, I would have never found the courage to face those fears.” Jesse insisted. “Thank you, Hanzo, really. I.. I can't thank you enough.”

Hanzo smiled at him, almost a little sheepish but he seemed to accept Jesse's gratitude.

“Would you like to play me a song?” Hanzo asked quietly, his smile still in place.

“There's nothing I'd rather do!” Jesse beamed and he meant it from the bottom of his heart.

Jesse struck up a melody and started to sing. It was one of his own songs – one of the first he had ever performed in public at that. He had lacked the experience back when he had written it, right after a nasty break up, and it showed but it remained one of Jesse's favorite. It was almost as if the youthfulness of past days had been trapped in the simple melody and the corny lyrics.

Usually, when Jesse sang he liked to close his eyes and get lost in the music but this time he forced himself to keep them open so that he could watch Hanzo. And what a sight it was. Hanzo's mouth was slightly agape as he watched Jesse in awe, listening intently to each word that left Jesse's lips.

Until suddenly, something seemed wrong.

Hanzo shut his eyes closed, grabbing onto his head. Jesse stopped immediately, putting his guitar away to reach out. He wanted to put his hand on Hanzo's shoulder to comfort the other, but of course, his hand slipped right through Hanzo's body.

Jesse did not know whether Hanzo had felt the contact, but he quickly withdrew his hand again. “Hanzo? Darlin', what's wrong? Talk to me-” Jesse muttered quickly, wanting so desperately to help but not knowing how. “Was it the song? Did you not like it? Or-”

“No, I.. I liked it. I liked it before, as well. I heard it – when I was still alive.” Hanzo said, his voice barely above a whisper as he slowly started to lower his hands. He looked up at Jesse and the pain that reflected in his eyes made Jesse's stomach flip.

“Did you.. did you come to one of my gigs?” Jesse asked, his mind racing. Had they met before, after all? Had Hanzo been a face in the crowd in one of those bars Jesse had played his music at? But Hanzo shook his head.

“No, no I did not watch you perform..” Hanzo said, trying to grasp the fleeting memory though it seemed to slip right through his fingers.

“Maybe on the radio?” Jesse offered, selfishly feeling relief. He had not missed Hanzo, had not missed to opportunity to meet him when he was still alive. “I have a friend who works at a local station. They play some of my songs now and again.”

That seemed to click.

“Yes, on the radio.” Hanzo confirmed, nodding slowly. “I think I was driving my car.”


	7. Next of Kin

Jesse kept playing songs for Hanzo over the next few days. From country to pop – everything in an attempt to bring back more memories, but while Hanzo enjoyed listening to Jesse, no new memories were triggered.

In a last-ditch effort, Jesse once again tried to consult the book he had bought over a month ago: True Self is Without Form.

It had not helped him a whole lot the first time he had read it, but Jesse felt like another try might give him some much-needed insight. To be honest, back then the idea of ghosts still had seemed so foreign to him. A possibility at best. Now he knew, that it was true – at the very least to some extent.

There was no doubt in his mind that Hanzo was real because Jesse was sure he would never have been able to conjure up someone as beautiful and smart and sassy and -

There was no way he could have made it all up.

Hanzo was real.

Hanzo was a ghost.

And Jesse was determined to help him, even if he was not exactly sure what that truly meant just yet. Did it mean, that he wanted Hanzo to move on? To be released and go to heaven, or be reborn or whatever it was that happened after death? Because there had to be something, Jesse was sure. Hanzo would not – could not – just disappear and fade into the void after all of this.

But he would be gone.

The thought made Jesse's chest feel tight – quite painfully so. He could not imagine a life without Hanzo. They were not just a pair of.. unconventional roommates at this point.

They were friends.

“What are you reading?” Hanzo's voice startled him out of his thoughts and Jesse scrambled as if he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“I- uhh..” Jesse stuttered out – eloquent as ever. “It's this book uh.. about spirits..” He said quietly, putting his finger between the pages before holding the book up to show Hanzo the cover.

Hanzo hummed, eyeing the book curiously. “Anything interesting in there?”

“Interesting? Yes. Helpful? Not so much.” Jesse chuckled, lowering the book again. “I mean the author seems to know a lot about the subject but it's all a little.. confusing..” He admitted.

There was a small pause before Hanzo spoke up again. “Perhaps you could try to contact them – the author, I mean.” Hanzo suggested quietly.

Jesse's eyes widened. “Shit, Hanzo, of course! Maybe that guy can help us out! I should have thought of this sooner-” He had not even paid attention to the author up to this point but when he turned the cover he read a familiar name. Jesse furrowed his brows, confused and surprised.

“Jesse? Is everything alright?” Hanzo asked, now equally confused but Jesse quickly reassured him with a smile.

“I think I know someone who could help us out.”

“You know, Hanzo, you didn't have to come..” Jesse said, keeping his voice low. They were walking down the sidewalk. The streets were crowded with commuters going to work or school or wherever else they needed to be and Jesse did not want to raise any unnecessary attention.

“I wanted to.” Hanzo said simply, walking closely behind Jesse so that no one would just walk straight through him. “I rarely leave the apartment these days.”

“Wait, really?” Somehow, Jesse was surprised to hear that. “What do you do when I'm not home?” He regretted his words the moment they had left his lips. What could Hanzo do on his own? He could not even turn on the TV or open a book or go down the street to buy himself a coffee.

“I wait for you.”

Jesse felt miserable. He should think before opening his stupid mouth like that. “But you could still go outside, no? Take a walk through the park?..” He suggested, feeling like an idiot. “You know, if you want to you could come to work with me, as well.”

Jesse heard Hanzo hum behind him.

“I will consider the offer.” Hanzo said quietly. “Thank you, Jesse.”

They spend the rest of their walk in silence, Jesse mentally kicking himself over his insensitivity. However, they soon reached their destination.

“And here we are.” Jesse said with a lopsided grin, opening the door to hold it open for Hanzo. “The one and only Path to Tranquility.”

It was still early, so there were no costumers around yet, but as usual, Zenyatta was standing at the register, getting it ready for the day.

“Good mornin', Zen!” Jesse called out to his boss, nodding at Hanzo before they approached the counter.

“Greetings, Jesse, my friend.” Zenyatta greeted them in his melodic voice. He looked up from the register, smiling at Jesse before turning his head into Hanzo's direction. “You brought someone with you?”

Jesse and Hanzo both froze at that. They shared a look of excitement. “You can see him?” Jesse asked though his shoulders dropped the moment Zenyatta shook his head. “I am afraid, I can't.”

Now that he had said it, Jesse realized it as well. While Zenyatta had turned towards Hanzo, he was not directly looking at him. Jesse glanced at Hanzo, who seemed to have gone through the same thought process. He looked disappointed but they were not done yet.

“Zen – this might be a weird question but do you know someone by the name of 'Mondatta Thekharta' by any chance?” Jesse tried his best to keep his hopes low, even as he saw what he thought might be recognition in Zenyatta's eyes.

“Why, yes! I do know him quite well, in fact.” Zenyatta chuckled. “We are brothers.”

Jesse's face lit up like a Christmas tree and he once again shared a look with Hanzo.

“Sadly he is no longer with us.” Zenyatta added wistfully and Jesse felt like he had been dunked in a bucket of ice water.

“He's dead?” Jesse blurted out. After all this – could it really be? They were so close -

“Huh? Oh, no! I apologize. I suppose my choice of words was a little misleading.” Zenyatta said with a bashful smile. “He is not dead – he merely went on a journey to learn more about the true nature of life and the soul.”

Jesse felt like he was going to faint. “God damn, Zen – you can't lead a man on like this.” He gave an airy chuckle before taking a breath to try and calm his fried nerves. “Is there a way I could contact him? I bought his book back when I first stumbled into the shop, but it's kind of hard to wrap my head around most of the stuff in there.”

Zenyatta nodded in understanding, but the frown on his face did not bode well. “Unfortunately, I am not able to contact him at will. He often travels through very rural or even completely unpopulated areas at times. He sends letters every now and again, but it is nearly impossible for me to get a hold of him myself.”

“Do you know when he is scheduled to return?” Jesse asked, holding onto the remnants of his hope.

“He might not return for several years, I'm afraid.”

So that was it.

Another dead end.

Jesse turned to look at Hanzo, who suddenly appeared so much frailer. He did not even meet Jesse's eyes.

“I think I will return to the apartment, Jesse. Please relay my thanks to Zenyatta.” He muttered with a sigh. Defeated. Hopeless. Lost.

“Don't worry, Hanzo. We'll find something else, I promise.” Jesse all but pleaded. He did not want to see that look on Hanzo ever again.

Hanzo looked up at him, managing a forced smile, but then Zenyatta chimed in again.

“Hanzo?” He asked. “As in 'Hanzo Shimada'?”

Both Jesse and Hanzo turned to look at Zenyatta with wide eyes.

“How do you.. how do you know?” Jesse asked, incredulous. Hope bubbled up in his heart despite his best attempts to quench it.

“A young man with the name Genji Shimada often comes here to talk with me. He told me about his brother Hanzo many times.” Zenyatta explained and when Jesse turned to look at Hanzo for confirmation, he saw tears well up in the other's eyes and a beautiful smile on his lips.

“Genji? Genji – of course! How could I have ever forgotten?” Hanzo laughed in relief, shedding tears of joy. Jesse in turn felt his heart bloom.

“Zen! Can you call Genji and arrange a meeting with him? We have to talk to him. Tell him it's about Hanzo and tell him that it's urgent.”

**Author's Note:**

> 100% inspired by that old Reese Witherspoon movie.


End file.
